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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227282">you own me (lucky you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisorient/pseuds/thisorient'>thisorient</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Outer Banks (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M, probably OOC bc i love fanon and what about it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:47:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,495</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisorient/pseuds/thisorient</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafe gets kicked out for stealing again, and ends up at Barry's, of all places.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rafe Cameron/Barry, Rafe Cameron/Barry (Outer Banks)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you own me (lucky you)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i shipped them as a haha funny joke at first but then i got emotional and i hate myself a lot. they're so badwrong and awful for each other but here i am, baby! thanks nick and drew. </p><p>complete divergence of rafe cameron's jackassery. AU in which he did not shoot peterkin. i pretend i do not see it!!!!!!! fanon goggles on!!! based off of the scene in 1x10 where rafe shows up at barry's.</p><p>title is from "lucky you" by the national, which i played on loop while writing this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A motor roars outside of the trailer. It’s the rumble of Rafe’s bike and it’s a sound that Barry recognizes by now, so he doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even move to hide the coke he’s cutting. Rafe barges in just as Barry is ripping a line over the coffee table, eyes rolling back. </p><p> </p><p>“Barry. I need cocaine.” Rafe says. He’s standing there all nervous energy, looking like a madman, wide-eyed and hyper.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m all out, man. That was my last line right there. Everybody done came and done a run on me, a’ight?” Barry replies, accent heavy and slurred. “Everybody stockin’ up for this storm.”</p><p> </p><p>Rafe starts rifling through the first cabinet he sees, frantic. “Oh, I know you got it in here, bro.” Random objects inside topple over and clang as they hit the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I don’t got anything in here! I’m all out, man.” Barry says.</p><p> </p><p>Rafe slams the cabinet door. “Bullshit, man! You’re so full of shit.” He heads for Barry’s bedroom, knowing that he stashes in the closet too.</p><p> </p><p>“Rafe!” Barry yells, and goes after Rafe. “What did I say, bitch? I’m out!”</p><p> </p><p>There’s clothes being tossed out of the closet as Rafe keeps digging for something that just isn’t there. He won’t listen to the truth, and Barry has to manhandle him. In comparison, Rafe is so much taller than Barry - he should be able to overpower him, but Barry gets behind him and tosses him to the side, away from his belongings. “Get out of here, man!”</p><p> </p><p>Rafe runs out of the trailer hyperventilating. He’s mumbling something unintelligible, and collapses onto the front porch. It’s a panic attack, Barry guesses, or a breakdown, or <em> something </em> but Rafe just isn’t well and Barry isn’t that experienced. He’s a bit at a loss but he’s going to <em> try. </em> For Rafe, he’ll try. So, he rubs at his face and mutters, “Shit, man,” before he grabs a chair and pulls up. </p><p> </p><p>At this point, Rafe is full-blown sobbing, and Barry isn’t used to people crying. It got drained out of him in the Army, then everyone he’d met since had either been too fucked up to cry, or didn’t stick around long enough for the chance to cry in front of him. All he can do is offer some words, and hope they’re enough to help Rafe, whatever he’s freaking out about.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Rafe. You’re good, you’re good.” </p><p> </p><p>Rafe looks at him through his fingers laced across his face. His eyes are red and raw, lips cherry-red themselves to match.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re good. Breathe.”</p><p> </p><p>Rafe takes in a breath, exhales slowly, trying to even it out. “Have you ever done something… bad? Something that you never thought you would?”</p><p> </p><p>“What you done, Country Club? Was you late to a tea time?” Barry replies. “You can talk to me, man, just tell me whatever it was you done, bro, ‘cause I promise you, whatever it was, that I done worse.”</p><p> </p><p>Rafe sniffs. “I stole from my dad again.”</p><p> </p><p>Barry starts to laugh. And he shouldn’t - Rafe is crying on his front fucking porch, and he’s trembling, looking scared to death, but… Jesus, <em> really? </em> And didn’t he already steal from the man before? How is it any different now?</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up, man.” Rafe says. “I promised I wouldn’t do it again. I promised and he let me move back in but I fucking- I’m such an idiot. He kicked me out this time. For good.” Rafe’s looking down, and he’s shaking. “I know it’s for good. I’m fucked, man. Totally fucked.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you come down here, huh? Spend whatever you took from the bastard on coke? You stupid, man.” </p><p> </p><p>“I mean, he made me give it back, but. Whatever I have, yeah, I was gonna spend it on cocaine.”</p><p> </p><p>“And your little rich bitch friends won’t let you stay with ‘em?”</p><p> </p><p> Rafe shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit, man… a’ight listen. That storm’s comin’ up this way. You can take the couch here, just, don’t be freakin’ out on me again, Rafe. Goin’ through my shit and all. I don’t have anything here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Rafe says. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>The trembling hasn’t stopped fully. Rafe’s hands simply look like they’re vibrating, tips of them going wild. His breathing is still a little uneven, just on the edge of coming back down from the attack. Barry hasn’t moved from the chair he’s sitting in, but he gets up and sits down next to Rafe. </p><p> </p><p>Puts his hands over Rafe’s shaking ones.</p><p> </p><p>Like Barry’s gone soft.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not like Rafe <em> hasn’t </em> become a little bit of a staple in his life. From coming in and out of the house for deals, to the fights, the burns and the bruises that followed. They’re in a better spot now, though. Yeah, Barry’s still looking to get that money from the Pogues, but there’s not much Rafe can really do, is there? Sarah’s gone with the surf rat Pogues. So maybe it’s okay that Barry does this, maybe it’s okay to touch Rafe this way. Maybe Rafe needs it.</p><p> </p><p>Rafe looks up at him, his hands stilled by Barry’s, whose palms are warm, and albeit rough, they feel safe. Barry’s looking back at Rafe, brows knit. “You’re good, man,” he assures him. Rafe can blame it on the breakdown when he buries his face in Barry’s neck. Like he's gone soft too. Barry stills, but wraps his arm around Rafe when he lets out a shaky sigh. </p><p> </p><p>For a while, they sit, wrapped together and skin damp from the humidity, the sound of bugs singing in the woods. It feels like they're the only people in the world right now. So perhaps, that's why Rafe presses a kiss to Barry's neck. That's why he feels brave enough. Nobody can see, and he feels safe, somehow, despite Barry's life being dangerous and messy. Despite that mark on his wrist that hasn't yet faded. It's how he hasn't had someone talk him down before, and if he's honest with himself, he kind of wanted it from Barry. Because it isn't like he hadn't thought about being this close to him. </p><p> </p><p>That he hadn't dreamt about Barry before, but dreamt something more than just being taken care of like this. He'd dreamt something else, mouths and hands and skin-on-skin, dimples in the light of a campfire, the stench of weed in a shotgun kiss. Rafe woke up in a sweat after those dreams. Sometimes he woke up hard as a rock, of course, because he's having fucking <em> sex dreams </em> , but he's still so shaken up at the thought of him and Barry doing… <em> that </em>. He's not supposed to think of Barry like that. Blames it on proximity of how they're cramped together when he swings by the trailer to settle a deal. Though, Rafe has caught himself staring at Barry’s mouth, or studying the lean lines of his arms sticking out of one of his 300-plus tank tops he has. Barry dangles himself in front of Rafe every week, just like he dangles the baggies of coke in front of him, too. </p><p> </p><p>The shitty thing that brought them together. A big reason Rafe shouldn't be kissing Barry's neck. A big reason he shouldn't be doing it again, and again, but he does. </p><p> </p><p>Barry gasps, tilts his head as if he's asking for more by giving Rafe more room, but Rafe snaps out of it - he didn't even ask Barry if he could do that, and honestly he's a little in shock he isn't knocked out flat on his ass at this point by Barry's hand. Barry who wouldn't want him. Barry, who was, up until recently, an enemy. Barry, who has had girls here before that Rafe had seen scurry out of his bedroom, whispering <em> sorry's </em> or <em> excuse me's </em>as they squeezed past the boys in the hallway when they were going in to make a deal. </p><p> </p><p>So, Rafe catches himself, pulls back and starts to get up. "Fucking, what the fuck-". He's scrambling to get on his feet, and Barry meets him halfway, helps him stand straight, before turning him around and pressing him to the side of the trailer. Barry's shorter than him, but Rafe is feeling so small. He can handle himself, sure, but he just <em> kissed </em> Barry so… he's expecting nothing less than getting his ass kicked. For real this time. No dirty fighting, no games. </p><p> </p><p>Instead, Barry just looks up at him. Eyes blown with something like lust, instead of anger. "Country Club," Barry says, dragging it out. "Mind tellin' me what the hell that was?"</p><p> </p><p>Silence, shocked silence. Rafe was expecting a knuckle knocking his nose out of place. But Barry is close enough to press against him fully, and he's not hurting him. His hands are on Rafe's shoulders. Barry can hear his heart pounding, could even feel his pulse if he tried, and he takes it all in - the nervous boy in his grip, how he didn't think Rafe would ever go there. </p><p> </p><p>Rafe wasn't all alone in wanting more. Barry had thought about him too. He was more welcoming of it - the thoughts didn't plague him, in fact, he loved it. Lived for them. Rafe had never been in his bed, but Barry could pretend he was if he just closed his eyes hard enough. Never tried to get anywhere with Rafe though - preppy rich boy, Barry assumed he was straight as an arrow, could even be a bigot, that's what a lot of his kind were from Barry's experience. His neck tingled where that preppy rich boy had just kissed him though, the ghost of his lips lingered. </p><p> </p><p>"Sorry, man, I'm an idiot. Jesus. Sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me." </p><p> </p><p>Barry chuckles, but it's tinged with something dark. "Whatever's wrong with you, it ain't no problem with me." Barry says.</p><p> </p><p>Rafe's eyes widen. </p><p> </p><p>"Actually," he continues, "I want you to do it again." He spins Rafe around until Barry's the one pressed against the trailer. He looks up at Rafe, one brow raised. "Keep goin', baby boy." </p><p> </p><p>And Rafe's brain short-circuits at the words <em> baby boy, </em>a nickname Barry only used sarcastically when they'd fought, or when Barry was just being short with him. He quickly recovers though and dives back in like man starved, starts kissing his neck again, with more feeling this time. Harder as he goes, with Barry's hands slipping under his shirt and touching his skin, nails digging in and lighting him aflame. </p><p> </p><p>"Use your teeth," Barry says breathlessly, and Rafe obeys and sinks his teeth in. Barry keens, stifles a moan as Rafe leaves what's sure to be a bruise. It's not from a fight this time. No, this has a different intent - marking him with <em> you own me, </em> not something stemming from, <em> I owe you.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Rafe dips down lower onto Barry's collarbone, his hands underneath Barry's shirt, too, begging to get rid of it. And Barry knows it, knows exactly where this is going to go. It's the heat and panting and the way he can feel how hard Rafe is through his shorts, and how Barry is hard in his own. </p><p> </p><p>"A'ight," he says, gently pushing Rafe off of him. "C’mon, Country Club. Inside." Barry drags him in by the collar of his shirt, leading the way to the bedroom. The trailer is littered with knick-knacks, empty bottles, blankets and tapestries of every print and color. The warm glow of the evening pushes through the thin fabrics and turns the two boys golden. Barry’s bedroom is no different than the rest of the house, nothing matches, it’s like everything was just thrown together with no consideration. It’s just whatever works. And that’s kind of how Barry is - no rhyme; he’s everything and nothing all at once. Rafe admires it. Admires him.</p><p> </p><p>Barry practically tosses him onto the bed, playfully. He crawls up the length of Rafe’s body before settling on top of his thighs, then he rids himself of his tank top. Rafe watches the necklace Barry’s wearing bounce back against his chest as the shirt drops to the floor. Barry touches the hem of Rafe’s own shirt but he seeks Rafe’s eyes as if he’s looking for permission to take it off.</p><p> </p><p>“Do it.” Rafe tells him, sitting up on his elbows so that Barry can peel it off. It’s skin-on-skin now, just the way that Rafe has dreamt of. Just the way that Barry always thinks of, right here, in this very bed. It’s real this time, the hand that trails its way down to the button of his shorts is real, it’s pale and it’s thin and it’s perfect to him, popping open the button and moving the zipper down. </p><p> </p><p>Barry leans in to kiss Rafe for the first time, the latter’s lips are swollen and chapped against his. They move together, wet and hot as their lips part and tongues inevitably collide. Barry’s hands cup either side of Rafe’s jaw and deepen the kiss as Rafe shimmys Barry’s shorts down. They stop kissing only for Barry to shuck them off and toss them across the room, then working on Rafe’s bottoms that soon join them. </p><p> </p><p>Rafe sits back up to kiss Barry more, only getting a few pecks in before Barry says, “You sure you’re wantin’ do this? With me?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think I’ve been more sure about anything else. Not for a long time. Just- just please, Barry.” he begs. Strands of Barry’s hair have fallen out of his hair tie, the tips of them tickling Rafe’s face. Barry is everywhere right now. On top of him, the mattress under him, the sheets that surround them both, and the scent of his hair, the ghost of his breath on Rafe’s lips. So close. Rafe brushes the locks behind Barry’s ears, who kisses him once more.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, then. It’s up to you, Rafe Cameron,” Barry says, he turns over and lies back, Rafe instinctively crawling on top of him. They’ve switched positions, and Rafe guesses this is how it is. Barry takes the lead. He’s okay with that. “Whatever you wanna do. Get to it.”</p><p> </p><p>He shifts down Barry’s body, hands dragging their way down his torso, slowly. The skin is soft, so unlike Barry, who’s hardened around the edges of his personality. The toughness, the wildness of him, the unpredictability and how Barry just lives that way and doesn’t care, and if you do care, well, fuck you. But he feels soft under Rafe’s hands, and his abdominal muscles contract as Rafe goes lower and lower. He supposes he should go into this slower, hasn’t been with a guy before but girls usually like to be kissed on the way. So he starts at Barry’s chest, and Barry’s hands wrap in his hair as he trails down - a kiss every few inches, until he meets the waistband of Barry’s underwear, pulling them off and down his legs. </p><p> </p><p>It seems like Rafe can’t stop learning new things about Barry today. </p><p> </p>
<ol>
<li>He’s surprisingly good at calming someone down.</li>
<li>He wants Rafe, the same way that Rafe wants him.</li>
<li>He’s a stupidly good kisser.</li>
<li>He has a dainty tattoo at his pelvis, thin lowercase lettering that spells out the words, <em>lucky you. </em>
</li>
</ol><p> </p><p>Lucky him, spitting onto his palm and wrapping a hand around Barry, who’s achingly hard and twitching underneath him. Barry gasps, arching his back, and Rafe puts a comforting hand on Barry’s stomach to keep him grounded. As if Rafe doesn’t need to be grounded himself. He’s scared of fucking up, scared that Barry might laugh at him, call him some stupid name before throwing him out of his room and banishing him to the couch in shame.</p><p> </p><p>Little does he know, Barry’s gone crazy at just his hand, going faster the more confident he gets. Barry’s eyes were screwed shut, but then he looks down, sees fingers tracing over the lettering of his tattoo as Rafe tries to make him see stars. He didn’t think it could get any better because this is more than he ever thought he’d be doing with Rafe, but it does get better, especially now that Rafe slows his movements down and parts his lips, swirling his tongue around the head of Barry’s cock. Barry bucks at the feeling as a natural reflex and apologizes, “Fuck, man, sorry,” he breathes.</p><p> </p><p>Rafe just holds one of Barry’s hips steady with a free hand and decides to go a step further. Wraps his lips around him, still licking the head before he takes him fully in his mouth, sucking in what length he can, and dragging his hand along with his movements. </p><p> </p><p>Barry’s gotten a lot of head in his life. </p><p> </p><p>A lot. </p><p> </p><p>This is different though, as Barry is used to getting what he wants when he wants it. He has a reputation and runs with bad people, but women and men still fall for him and fall into his bed and they treat him so well. With Rafe, Barry didn’t think they’d get past being… partners in literal crime, maybe? At the most? It’s wanting something so badly, never thinking you’d get it, then having it be right there with you, on top of you, when it once felt impossible. That’s why it feels different, because Rafe and Barry are possible.</p><p> </p><p>It’s almost embarrassing how close Barry is in such a short amount of time - what Rafe lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm, putting his all into making Barry feel good. He’s a moaning wreck underneath the boy, who takes Barry deeper and deeper, and Barry warns him, “Close, Rafe, get back,” but Rafe doesn’t get back. Rafe holds on, still keeping Barry steady underneath him, as he cums in Rafe’s mouth with a groan. The sight Barry sees before him, Rafe swallowing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, it’s going to be burned into his memory for a long, long time. Maybe it’ll always be there.</p><p> </p><p>They both sit up and Barry lunges forward, kissing Rafe deep, doesn’t care that he’s tasting himself on Rafe’s tongue, Barry is goddamn drowning in Rafe Cameron right now and he doesn’t want to be rescued. He bites Rafe’s bottom lip, then kisses across his jaw and bites there too, just where it meets his neck. </p><p> </p><p>“Barry, please,” Rafe moans.</p><p> </p><p>“Say my name again, baby.”</p><p> </p><p>“Barry,” Rafe says, louder. “Please, Barry. Touch me.”</p><p> </p><p>And he does, slipping a spit-slick palm underneath Rafe’s underwear and wrapping his hand around him. He feels Rafe pulse in his hand, and his lips ghost the shell of Rafe’s ear when he says, “Never thought you’d let me touch you, Country Club.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call me that when we do this. God.” </p><p> </p><p>Barry just laughs. “Think I’ll call you what I want. I could get used to <em> baby </em> though, what d’ya think?”</p><p> </p><p>Rafe shivers, and Barry licks a stripe on the side of his neck, back up to his jaw to leave a mark. Something about that patch of Rafe he always wanted to ruin. Not with a fist fight. Just like this. He jerks Rafe off faster, and Rafe damn near whines when he cums onto Barry’s hand, wet and messy, almost as quick as Barry started touching him. They were both high-strung and dying for this. They’re out of breath, Rafe more so than Barry, who disgustingly wipes his hand on the sheet next to them.</p><p> </p><p>It looks like the sun has gone down for the most part, and the promised rain has begun. They were gold when they started, now they’re a dark blue. It feels right. A calm sense. Once they catch their breath, Barry’s the first to say something. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”</p><p> </p><p>Rafe is puzzled. “Have… what, in me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wantin’ someone like me. Badder than I thought, Country Club.” Barry replies, a smirk dancing on his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Rafe playfully smacks Barry’s arm. “Man, I said to cut it with the name when we do this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Only when we’re fuckin’ though, right? Guess I’ll call you baby when we ain’t fuckin’ then, gotta even it out, huh?” Barry has a shit-eating grin on his face, the kind of grin when he knows he’s getting under your skin. Except, Rafe isn’t annoyed, not seriously anyways. He brushes a loose strand behind Barry’s ear like before, and sighs. “Whatever you want, Barry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever I want, huh? I think I want you to give up the couch. Stay here in my bed instead.”</p><p> </p><p>Barry has gone soft for Rafe, hasn’t he? They’ve both gone soft for each other, and maybe… maybe it’s not a bad thing. It’s okay to sand the edges down, let someone in for once. For real. Rafe can figure this out later, where he’s going to stay, but for now, in Barry’s bed, he feels safe. He shouldn’t feel safe here. But he does. Strangely so.</p><p> </p><p>“Works for me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact i'm jjpope trash but i'm incapable of writing wholesome bois. i'll leave it to the professionals.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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